


From the Ether - Epilogue

by Sparrowsverse



Series: Fragments [2]
Category: Bandom, Doctor Who, The Who
Genre: Gen, Magnificent Seven ATF, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrowsverse/pseuds/Sparrowsverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We had just left JD and Buck to their own devices in getting to England, it’s time to take a look at the other half of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Ether - Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could claim ownership to this wonderful ficlet, but it must go to Miss Enola Jones AKA jennytork. She wrote this wonderful story in a spur of the moment on aim chat while I was showing her my first story for this series. She has given me permission to post this wonderful story.

One of them -- a dignified-appearing gentleman with longish silver hair -- set down his drink and without a word, headed into his private bedroom. Bypassing everything, he moved to a ceiling-high cabinet and gently laid his hand on the ornate door.

His grey eyes widened in shock.

He moved to his bedside and dialed a well-known number. "Rog? She's humming. She's waking up."

He hung up the phone and shook. He knew Roger would contact Pete and they'd be there soon. He walked over and put a hand on the doors again. "He's back, isn't he, honey? After thirty years, he's back...."

Sitting around the table half an hour later, they just stared at each other. Pete's hand kept going to the key tucked under his shirt.

They had all been his companions. More than a band, more than friends, their drummer had taken them to fantastic worlds and fantastic times. Roger still bore the scar on his belly from a caveman's spear.

They had entered his ship many times over the last thirty years. It was like he had said -- dead. Cold. Lifeless. Dormant.

Now, each of them was hesitant to enter her. Afraid of what they might or might not find.

He had said it would be, rather it was John who finally got to his feet and headed to the bedroom again. Wordlessly, they followed him to the cabinet. It looked like it always had.

Taking a deep breath, John slid the key from underneath his shirt and fitted it into the lock. A single turn and he pushed the door to the cabinet inward.

And they walked in.

"Holy HELL!" Pete gasped his eyes huge. The rondels on the walls were lit. Every one of them glowed a brilliant white.

The blue and green column in the centre of the column was lit. Her essence seemed to be - singing.

"She's awake," John whispered.

Pete turned to him and let out a wordless cry.

John turned to face him, and his eyes went huge.

Roger looked at both of them, and his jaw dropped.

They all looked thirty again.

"Oh, yeah," Roger whispered. "She's awake." They had never aged the entire time they had traveled with him. He had speculated that if they resumed their roles as companions, she would take them back down to that age so their bodies could handle the rigors of that position.

They had their proof.

They left her to her joy and found that they remained young -- till John passed by a mirror and they saw the dignified old man reflected in it. "She knows what she's doin', all right," Pete breathed. "That perception filter's workin'."

"But where IS he?" Roger asked. "Why hasn't he contacted us yet?"

It was the next morning when the reality of what had happened sank in. They'd been in a holding pattern for thirty years -- waiting for their friend to return.

Pete growled as he came down the stairs. "We nearly DIED waiting for him. He doesn't tell us JACK SHIT, just leaves a f****g NOTE."

John looked up at him. "Now, Pete--"

"Don't you 'now, Pete' me! YOU were the one who nearly didn't live to see today! If we hadn't gotten you to that f*****g doctor..."

John stood up. "Pete. That's ENOUGH."

"It's not nearly enough!" Pete roared. "It's barely BEGUN!"

Pete's mouth opened to deliver the next diatribe, when a scone was literally shoved into it and a large hand was planted in the middle of his chest, over his wildly beating heart. Without a word, blue eyes blazing, Roger used the shocking strength he'd always possessed but rarely used nowadays and bodily SHOVED Pete to sit in a chair.

"Now you listen here, you f*****g tosser," Roger snarled, hands on the table behind Pete and literally snarling inches from his face, "Keith's got every reason in the world for doing what he did, and you know it. We're all put out because we missed him for thirty years. Well, hellfire, he was on HIS LAST LIFE. There WAS no more regeneration. There WAS no more turning from tall and gangly and ginger to wide-eyed innocence and raven hair. THIS WAS IT."

"And his regeneration was de-stabilizing, remember?” John said. "That's why he aged so fast at the end. Who knows what he looks like now. Probably a decrepit old man."

"THAT'D be irony for you," Roger shot as he sank into a chair. "Us young and vital and him having to mainline Geritol."

Pete choked on the remnants of scone, laughing till tears squeezed from his eyes.

"Anyways, there's an explanation for why he hasn't gotten to us, and we'll hear it soon enough. He's not forgotten about us," John said. "He promised."

Pete looked at him. "John," he said, his voice clogged with pain. "It's been THIRTY YEARS."

John met his gaze. "He. PROMISED."

And that was that.


End file.
